Homily for Lk 7:11-17

Brother Christopher
Holy Wisdom Church

“When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’  Lk 7:13

 

In meditating on this passage, I can only imagine what it must have been like for the disciples to have been with Jesus during this part of his public ministry. Remember: just before this morning’s gospel reading Jesus had healed the valued slave of a Roman centurion at a distance, after marveling at the centurion’s expression of faith in Jesus’ ability to do this simply by his command. Jesus’ declaration that not even in the whole of Israel had he ever seen faith like that must have astonished the disciples and even they would have been stunned to learn that the centurion’s servant had indeed been healed. But now, Jesus performs an even greater sign – one in continuity with what the prophet Elijah did for the widow of Zárephath that we heard in the first reading, in raising her son centuries before. Jesus and his disciples come upon a funeral procession: the only son of a widow had died and they were in the process of taking him for burial. How Jesus recognized the details of the situation we don’t know; what we do learn is that he had compassion on the widow. Being a widow, Jesus knew that in losing her only son she had lost the means to survive economically. Still, he tells her not to weep and spontaneously he touches the bier and commands the dead man to arise... and he does! Imagine you being a disciple and seeing that miraculous deed. It is hardly surprising that awe overtook everyone and they recognized that a great prophet had arisen, that God had visited his people through Jesus.

              However, what strikes me this morning is less the fact that Jesus performed an astonishing, powerful miracle (which quite plainly he did), as the fact that he was moved with compassion for the widow. That’s what so notable here, and what motivated the miracle. I think it’s fair to say that often we feel that people in power and who command great authority often fail to communicate any sort of empathy and compassion for what the majority of people are going through. There is an implicit disconnect. We can even be tempted to think this about God, the creator of the universe. How could God really understand my suffering and pain? This is what is so unique about the Christian revelation, about the mystery of the incarnation, of God taking flesh and sharing fully in the human experience. Jesus shared in it all – fully God, fully human – and it is that fact which makes us able to believe that Jesus’ compassion extends beyond simply this gospel story, into the very depths of our own struggles. Jesus Christ risen and now universally present to all creation, bids us to rise – not from physical mortality necessarily, but from the ‘lesser’ deaths we must all undergo along the path to holiness and wholeness. When we open ourselves to God as we are, without pretense or veneers, humbly asking for help, we mysteriously feel the compassion of God extending towards us, giving us hope and courage to face whatever challenge life might offer.